


A Body Without Armor

by dragonswithjetpacks



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Beatrice Cousland, F/M, Foreplay, dislocated shoulder, nice build up, steamy bits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonswithjetpacks/pseuds/dragonswithjetpacks
Summary: After a brutal battle with an ogre, a disabled Beatrice leads the group across the flatter parts of the Hinterlands to seek shelter from the rain. They find luck on their side as a farmer agrees to take them in and even feed them for the night. However, Beatrice finds that injuries have made basic functions difficult. And decides to accept a helping hand that lingers.





	A Body Without Armor

The paths between villages began to grow longer as Beatrice lead her companions through the Hinterlands. They traveled east toward the Brecilian Forest. But there was no telling how long it would take to get there. Especially given that the Imperial Highway was not a recommended way to travel for the time being. Bandits were expecting the unfortunate to cross their paths. If they were lucky, they could gain a few coin. If not, Beatrice was more than happy to cut them down and take what they stole. Often during her travels, she gave what she had taken to those in need. It was not as if their group needed any more. They were already traveling with Bodahn and his son who were more than happy to sell them supplies.

However, the group had not been to the main camp in quite some time. They relied on villages and towns to restock on their supply. It was getting to the point where they were low on food and coin. Before long, they would have take some side work for housing and a meal. Unless of course they got lucky. Which happened occasionally, surprisingly. And on this particular day, they could use a little bit of luck as dark grey clouds began to roll across the sky. A light peaked through for just a moment. And just when she thought the weather would take a turn for the better, it began to sprinkle. Looking up to the sky, she wrinkled her nose. She could smell the rain. Fang wined at her side and she reached her hand to feel his snout against her palm.

"We should take shelter," she said softly.

"It's going to storm," Morrigan said, coming up beside her.

"The trees are our best option," Beatrice called behind her. "A few of us should scout ahead to see if there is a village nearby."

"I'll go," Alistair happily volunteered.

"No," Beatrice sighed. "I will go."

She hated the rain. But what she hated even more was the feeling that she was useless. It was bad enough her arm was in a sling from their previous battle. The others had urged her to take it easy. To rest. And she agreed to do so. The sudden rain had dampened her plans to set up camp. Everywhere she looked there was nothing but open field. Surely there would be a farm somewhere close.

"I will go, as well," Morrigan stepped out from under the tree.

"Really?" Beatrice raised a questioning brow.

"I like the rain," her friend replied with a soft yet mischievous smile.

"Fair enough," she shrugged.

Beatrice followed her out into the rain, much to Alistair's disliking. He knew if he argued with her, she would only scold him for being over protective. It was he that convinced her into the sling. His original suggestion was to have Morrigan look at her injuries, but she insisted they moved on and she would examine her wounds once they made camp adding that Morrigan was not even a healer, anyway. He watched the backs of the two women until they were out of sight.

"They'll be fine," Leliana patted him lightly on the shoulder. "If anything, Morrigan can just turn into a bear and scare off anyone who tries anything. Not that she has to turn into a bear to do that."

"You know, you could have said something," he glanced at her from over his shoulder. "She actually listens to you."

* * *

 “I am honestly starting to believe you have the worst luck,” Morrigan grumbled, throwing her hood over her face to avoid the downpour.

“I thought you liked the rain?” she asked, smirking over to her companion. “Or are you afraid your makeup is going to smudge?”

She wrinkled her nose with a noise of disgust, crossing her arms and diverting her eyes elsewhere. Bea smiled and chuckled to herself, thankful that she was never one to wear such things on her face. Even when she was younger, she refused to subject herself to the habit of wearing powders. Though, when she looked at Morrigan, she often admired the beauty of the purple around her eyes.  
They walked side by side in silence, stepping over puddles and doing their best to avoid the muddier parts of the road. There was no real telling how long they had been traveling. But the sun was starting to set and Beatrice was growing impatient. Another mile and she knew she would have to turn back with no good news for the others.

“Perhaps your luck has taken a turn,” Morrigan said behind her.

“How fortunate,” Beatrice replied looking ahead to see a man with a large brimmed hat on a cart lead by two horses.

“Hail,” she called after him, waving her hand in hopes of getting his attention.

He waved back, pulling the reins to slow the beasts to a stop.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, squinting his eyes through the downpour.

“I’m traveling with my fellow merchants,” she grinned as he eyed her. “We’re looking for shelter from the storm. Just for the night. Our packs are soaked and we haven’t been able to set camp.”

“You don’t say? The timing of this weather is terrible. What kind of merchants would you be?”

“We’re, um, not selling anything at the moment. Just looking to expand our locations. We sell exotics and antiques. Wares you haven’t seen before. Books, trinkets, maybe even potion or two.”

“You look pretty well armed for merchants,” he observed.

“Well you have to be these days!” Beatrice took her hip in her free hand hand, throwing her chest with a broad smile. “With the darkspawn running about, it’s hard to get anywhere. Don’t you worry, though. My talents don’t exactly fall under the fighting category. The bow is just for looks.”

“How many in your group?”

“Nosy one, isn’t he? Should I-“

“No,” Beatrice hissed from over her shoulder. “Six total, my good man. Three of them being my hired hands.”

“Hired hands?”

“I’d like to say they handle the more difficult labor. But I’m going to be honest if you are to have us as guests tonight that they’re my bodyguards. Hired mercenaries. Best of the best.”

The man wiped his face, his eyes shifting between Beatrice and her friend.

“Where did you say you were from?”

“We didn’t,” Morrigan spat, growing impatient by the minute.

“For Maker's sake," Beatrice sighed reaching into her pockets. ”Six sovereigns. One for each of us."

"No questions asked then, huh? Why didn't you say so? Just mind yourselves. My wife isn't one to tolerate rudeness."

“Of course, sir. And thank you!” she gave a slight bow, her toes pointed and arm wide.

"Up the road about another mile or so. Take the road north. You'll see the farm there," he pointed behind him without really looking while flicking the reins of horse with the other hand.

Beatrice waited for him to trot a ways down the road before she turned to Morrigan.

“How long were you going to let him pry?”

“Until I ran out of good lies,” she grinned. “And it was getting pretty close.”

* * *

“Thank the Maker,” Zevran said shivering underneath the tree. “Please tell me you found better shelter.”

“There’s a farm a few miles north. We can stay there for the night,” Beatrice stretched a hand down to help him onto his feet.

“How did you manage that?”

“I crossed paths with a farmer. He said his wife will take us in. Mind your manners, though," she pointed a finger. "All of you."

They snickered to one another before gathering their soaked packs off the ground.

* * *

 

It was a small hut with very little lighting made for the workers before they left to flee from the Blight. There were two small rooms in the back only big enough for one person to stand as there was a small chair and bed in each corner. The other was completely empty and had no door. So one by one, they went into the enclosed room to change into some dry clothing the farmer's wife had provided them and bring their armor and belongings into the other room. Beatrice had decided she would go last. Not because she was being courteous. But because she knew it would take her the longest to undress. When it was finally her turn, she stood in the center of the room to contemplate how exactly she was going to change. The furthest she got was removing her arm from the sling and taking off her boots and gloves. Everything else was a struggle as pain shot from her left side down her entire body. Feeling defeated, she sunk into the chair in the corner. She felt perhaps it was meant to be there just so she could sulk.

"Beatrice," a knock came on the door.

"Yes?" she called through her hands, which were planted on her face.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"The others have gone to dinner. It's just me. And I told them I'm waiting for you."

She thought about it for a moment. If it was only Alistair, she supposed it would be alright. Standing up carefully so she did not have to move too much of her upper body, she carefully opened the door. His brow rose as she stepped back to let him inside.

"Are you having trouble?" he teased.

"I can't get the buckle undone," she gestured with her good hand.

"That's because it's completely smashed," he said upon examining it closer.

He leaned over her to work closer with the straps on her pauldrons. She glanced away from him due to embarrassment but found her eyes lingering back to the side of his face. She couldn't help but think how odd it was to see him out of armor. His jaw line was more noticeable and she could see most of his neck. More than that, however, she could make out the shape of his back and the creases of the shirt as his shoulder blades moved.

"There," he said backing away from her.

Her eyes snapped to the back of the wall and she ignored all previous thoughts of him.

"It's completely ruined now," he said lifting it off her shoulder. "But at least we can get it off you. Slide on through."

She ducked her head under the strap and very slowly lifted her arm so he could ease it off the rest of her. Suddenly, she felt bad for being harsh on him earlier. She wished she would have known he would be so kind and caring. Without thinking, she brought her hand to undo the rest of her jerkin only to feel another bolt of pain. She hissed through teeth, grabbing her shoulder with her other hand.

"It's still that bad?" Alistair asked, setting her pauldrons on the small bed.

"It's probably nothing," she smiled while trying to shut out the pain.

"In case it is something, you should let me look. Or I can get Leliana, if you like?"

"No," she frowned. "Just... turn around... let me take this thing off."

He handed her the folded cloth shirt on the bed and turned to face the wall. He waited patiently and listened to her grunts and cries of pain as she traded one shirt for the other. She placed her good arm through the sleeve and wrapped the rest of her shirt around her. Brushing her hair to the side, she cleared her throat.

"Oooh," he grimaced after turning to face her. "That. Is. Nasty."

She didn't have to say anything for him to know she was cursing him. Hell, he didn't even need to see her face.

"You've got a badly dislocated shoulder, Bea," he said, turning his head to get a better look of the light bruises starting to form around it. "You want the good news or bad news?"

She sighed. "Give me the bad."

"It's going to hurt like hell."

"And the good?"

"I can fix it."

"You can fix it," she turned her whole body to look at him.

"I can. If you like."

"How?"

"Well, you just sit in the chair and I-"

"No, I mean, how do you know?"

"Basic triage and first aid. If it isn't something serious, I can generally pop back into place. You don't want to know how many times I've had to snap my nose back."

"That's disgusting," she grinned.

"I'm still handsome, though," he winked. "This won't take but a few minutes."

Beatrice situated herself more comfortably in the chair with her back as straight as possible. She took deep and shallow breaths to try and slow her heart rate that was beatin profusely from nervousness. Alistair rounded to her wounded side, pausing as he brushed by her.

"What is it?" she asked when he did not move.

"Nothing," he shook his head. "It's just... you're still wearing the amulet from the Joining."

He very gently took her arm into his hands, holding her wrist delicately. He seemed strangely excited and it made her feel a bit uncomfortable. But his confidence reassured her as he looked up with a smile. 

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded. But before she even finished, he jerked her arm slightly upward with a firm grip on her bicep and shifted it over in a slight motion.

"Andraste's holy satin knickers," she shouted, leaning forward and letting go of her shirt. "You could have counted to three or something!"

He chuckled as he rose off his knees, his hand reached up to massage the top of her shoulder to make sure it had been relocated properly. Beatrice had to admit that while the pain was incredible, she felt fine. Much better than before minus the minor discomfort that came with the bruising. Still, there was some pain in her abdomen and she could see some discoloration on the side of her ribs. She stood up from her chair, stretching her arm as she did so to loosen the tense soreness of the rest of her body.

"It looks like you might have some bruised ribs," he re-approached her.

Her shirt was dangling off her right shoulder in it's sleeve, leaving the majority of her torso exposed all except the brazier across her chest. She was too busy reaching for her other sleeve to notice his eyes shifting over her. There was no real alarm to the damage to her ribs. But there were some minor cuts that should have been tended to. She looked over to see him staring at the bruises.

They stretched from her side to her lower back, most likely caused from sliding a few feet into the ground.

"Would you mind?" she asked him.

"I... I should get Leliana or Morrigan for something like this," he stammered, his eyes shifting away.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're already here. Don't act like you've never seen a woman before."

She was certain he was only being polite and that he wouldn't be so nervous around a half naked woman. But the silence and slight glimpse of his expression told her different.

"You really haven't, have you?" she smiled.

"I can get some bandages for those," he changed the subject. "But you should be able to apply them yourself, now."

"Oh," she said softly. "Yes. Well, thank you."

"That ogre really banged you up, didn't he?" he looked up at her.

There was no stopping the flush of red from spreading across her face.

"Yes. But... you should have see how he looked," she brushed it off with a sense of humor.

He reached out to touch the scrape along her side. And she lifted her shirt to allow him to do so. Once again, she began to feel strange about how he looked in normal clothing. Not only that, but how comfortable she was with him. She stood in a room alone with him with her chest nearly exposed as he ran his fingers along her back. How very strange indeed. The sensation of his fingertips on her skin sent chills down her spine. And she clenched every muscle in her body with a deep inhale to control herself.

"That feels nice."

He stopped, pulling his hand away, and stood up straight all in the same second. "What?" he said.

"What?" she replied in utter disbelief that she had spoken the words out loud.

She expected him to utter something and bolt out the room. Instead, he remained behind her. He wanted an answer. Then again, so did she. She wasn't sure if the pain was just from being sore or if her beating heart had anything to do with it. Regardless, she was not escaping this battle. There was no defeating it with arrows, either. She looked over at him, her chin touching her shoulder. It was difficult to make eye contact, but she refused to turn completely around.

"I just..." she began. "The only thing my skin has had contact with the past few months has been armor and leather. I haven't felt something so soft in..."

She trailed off as Alistair looked down at his hands.

"My hands aren't really..." he swallowed the lump in his throat. "They're dry. And calloused."

"I meant," she turned while controlling the urge to roll her eyes, "your skin."

The moment she released the words, the moment she met eyes eyes, the moment she didn't cover herself up, she regretted it. Now she had left herself open and he could see her blushing face. And she could see his. The humiliation and embarrassment did not stop him from reaching out, taking her hand into his. Her eyes widened and she watched as he looked down at it, turning it over at running his thumb across the back of her hand. A feeling rushed over her that caused her skin to warm and her blood to freeze. Not once could she bring herself to look away from his face. And nothing in her head told her that she should remove her hand from his touch. In fact, because she had no barriers to hold her back, she stepped forward. His hand traveled over her palm this time and up her forearm where he paused to look back into her eyes. She looked down quickly to his chest where she brought her hands to rest against it. He closed the rest of the gap between them, pressing his nose into her hair. His hand ran up her arm and he rested his thumb against her neck while he slid the other over her side. Her hands crawled up the length of his chest and around his neck, forcing her to look up. It felt so good to feel his skin. To feel how warm he was. To feel his body through his light shirt. But there was one thing that was better. It was the feeling of his breath against her. Of his hands cradling her face, his thumbs grazing against her jaw. His lips hovering above hers. She held onto the moment for as long as she could, running her hands through the back of his head. He waited, parting his lips slightly with a smile. She returned the expression and nuzzled her nose against his. Finally, she pulled him in, forcing his lips onto hers.

Truth be told, it was one bound to happen and it was well worth being drawn out. The time the two had spent together made not just a friendship, but a companionship neither could do without. Even as Beatrice lead the group, she knew she would be nothing without her shield; her Alistair. During fights she always knew he was always the one to protect her. When he was not at the front of the battle field, he was close to her. She had never recognized it until recently, but she knew he was doing everything he could to prevent her from coming to harm. And with the slightest smile as her lips passed against his, her tongue grazing gently against his bottom lip, she remembered how she had done something similar. Her warrior could never fall. If he had, the battle would be lost. So her arrows always flew in his direction, landing in the face of an enemy he fought. The two of them together had felled many enemies. There was no mistaking, even from the rest of the group, that the two remaining Grey Wardens were the best pairing out of the lot of them. There was very little anyone could do to separate them.

Especially now...

Beatrice snaked her fingers through his hair, gripping it firmly as she pulled on him for a consistent need to taste him. Alistair remained modest, keeping his fingertips pressed into her back, lowering them only as low as her hip bones to message them with his thumbs. Their kiss remained heated, an exchange of passion long awaited. Bea had contained herself the best she could but could no longer contain her excitement. With a gasp for air, she let out a low moan into his mouth. His grip tightened on her lower back and he pulled her tightly forward. She could feel him pulsing against her and gave in to the sensation tingling below her belt line. She threw her head back, releasing her lips from his to feel his breath on her skin once again. His lips trailed from her chin down her neck.

"Beatrice," he breathed, sending a chill of cold own her spine.

"Mmmm," she could only reply.

"I want to tell you something," he pulled away briefly, causing her to stand upright.

"What is it?" she grinned.

"I-"

"Beatrice?" a voice came as the door opened suddenly.

Alistair let go of her, stepping back and doing his best to pull his cloth shirt down to hide what was below. Beatrice was the one caught off guard, still in a state of ecstasy. She did nothing to hide what had happened and stood bewildered in the center of the room with only half a shirt as Leliana entered.

"Oh," she said as if nothing happened at all. "I... I didn't mean to..."

"No," Alistair cried, reaching over to grasp the edges of Beatrice's shirt and lifting it to try to cover her nakedness. "I was just... I was helping... she was...I was..."

Beatrice looked down to see Alistair's face painted with red. But she did nothing at all about his awkward stance or his stammer. The best she could do was laugh.

"Alistair was helping me with my injuries," she said calmly.

"He was?" Leliana raised her brow.

Beatrice knew she did not have to lie to her friend. In fact, she knew she would have to tell her everything if she were to live to see another day. With the expressions exchanged between the two young women, they knew well enough the rest of their conversation was for the sake of saving poor Alistair's dignity.

"I had a dislocated shoulder. He popped it right back into place."

"Well the two of you should _pop_ right over for dinner. We won't wait much longer."

"Right..."

"Of course..."


End file.
